Sanitarium
by Onikoneko83
Summary: A dark building deep within the woods, masquerading as a school. A group of children, held prisoner by their own beliefs. A single boy, ignorant, yet naively certain of his place within the world. A lifealtering experience, bringing both forbidden plea
1. Chapter 1

"Nate, what is this?"

Nate started in guilty horror. They had found it, the notebook. His confession book. The book which Mother was now brandishing under his nose like a bloody knife. It only took one look at her face to confirm that she had read it. Or at least read enough of it. Her eyes reflected a righteous horror. An indignant repulsion, as if she had discovered something unbelievably ghastly.

"It's…mine," Nate said, feeling a dull shame settle down somewhere in his lower abdomen.

There was a dull 'whop' as the notebook was slapped across his face. "oh Lordy Lordy," his mother said, looking almost as if she were about to burst into tears, "How could you, our only son, do this to us?"

"Mom, I can expl…" whop, Nate was cut off mid-sentence by another slap.

"Get up to your room, you filthy sodomite!" his mother shrieked, "Just wait until your father sees this!"

Blinking back tears furiously, Nate nodded, "Yes Mother."

"And don't even think about coming down until you're told to," Mother cried after him as, head down, he plodded up the stairs.

Nate closed the door to his room and knelt in front of his bed. Clasping his hands in front of him, resting his elbows on the mattress, Nate looked up at the cross hanging on the wall above his bed. "Oh Lord," he said with a hitching voice, "I know I'm nothing but a hopeless sinner. And I know that I'm guilty of lying because I didn't tell Mother about this earlier. But could you possibly get them to understand why I did this? I know that having such thoughts about other boys is an abomination towards you, Lord. That's why I wrote them down, so I could get them out of me. I did it so I wouldn't have to think about it anymore. Isn't that what I should do?"

Nate's voice quickly lost coherence as he went on, cracking and hitching as tears began to flow more freely down his face. He tried to compose himself, and failed horribly. Giving up any attempt at a verbal prayer, Nate sobbingly lowered his head. The blue bedsheets became spotted as more tears fell upon them. Nate clasped his hands together so desperately that his knuckles began to turn white. Throughout all of it, the cross, complete with a moulded, plastic Jesus mounted upon it, stared down impassively, offering neither aid nor criticism to Nate's predicament.

Above all else, Nate felt it was a predicament of his own doing. When he had turned thirteen, two years ago, his parents realized that there were some things they would have to talk to him about, things which a growing boy would have to be taught, lest he be tempted to find out for himself with blasphemous experimentation. Thus, he was told about the act of intercourse, though no real details were given, lest his mind be tempted by darker forces. Mother and Father were certain to warn Nate about the fate that awaited those heathens who engaged in the hideous act known as 'pre-marital sex'. They told Nate to steer clear of the sins of the flesh, lest he be tempted down an ungodly path. They made it known that if he should dare to let the beliefs and habits of the idolatrous infect either his physical actions, or his thoughts, he would have more than just the fires of Hell to facilitate his atonement.

But most of all, they warned him against the single worst abomination before the eyes of the most Just and Loving God. They told him about the actions of those whom Our Lord Jesus Christ considered beneath murderers and even the dreaded Atheists. They warned him to keep clear of the ways of not only those who engaged in that single most sinful of acts, but also those who supported or condoned the act known as 'sodomy'. They told him that the quick and decisive judgment of both a wrathful God and incensed parents would fall upon him if he ever did as the sodomites did.

That was two years ago. Nate, like most boys his age, was not yet sexually mature then. Then, the rules were easy enough to follow, as the pre-pubescent Nate had no interest in such acts that were not only sinful, but in his opinion, rather gross. Then, as time passed, and Nate turned fourteen, then fifteen, things began to change with a frightening rapidity. The few girls that Nate saw, when his parents rarely allowed him out of the yard with them to go on the occasional shopping trip, began to hold a special interest to him. Nate began wondering what it would feel like to do certain things with them. Nate discovered that his body reacted in strange ways when he thought too long on such things, or when he gazed too long at certain older females.

Then, something else began to happen. Nate noticed with a growing fright that the same thing happened when he looked at certain boys too. It was with a gripping horror that Nate realized he was having the thoughts only had by those most filthy of creatures. He, the child of two servants of God, raised since birth to walk the correct path in the eyes of Our Lord, home-schooled so that he wouldn't be exposed to those blasphemous public institutions of Satan. Nate himself was having the desires of a sodomite. It was then that Nate decided to get the notebook. At the time, he thought it was a brilliant idea. He would get the notebook, and confess his sins to God there, so that they would be removed from his mind and placed upon paper. That way, when he was done, he could close the book, and thus, close off those thoughts that would send him to Hell.

Now, though, Nate regretted ever getting that book. It was a regret tinged with horror, guilt, and shame. The horror, understandably, came from the fact that his secret notebook, and its heretical contents, had been discovered. The shame was due to the fact that his own parents now knew that Nate had had fantasies of sodomy, the one thing they warned him away from with the greatest vehemence. The guilt, though, was a bit more complicated. Nate felt a curdling guilt deep within him. It was guilt at his own thoughts. Despite all that he had been taught, about how horrible and shameful even the consideration of sodomy was, Nate did not feel ashamed for having done it. Nate was ashamed, rather, that he had been caught at it. He was frightened, not of what God would think of the fact that he had had thoughts of sodomy, but what his parents would do now that they had found out. Nate knew he wasn't supposed to think that way. He was supposed to feel guilty for having thoughts of sodomy, and be strong and accept the consequences of such thoughts. But for some reason, he couldn't. They had felt so natural. Upon the sight of certain pale, thin boys, Nate found his body reacting with a completely natural-feeling desire.

His thoughts were interrupted by the clump of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. His father, undoubtably newly-enlightened on the contents of his son's hidden notebook. Nate gulped nervously as the doorknob turned, and his heavyset father stepped into the room. Nate looked downward, fresh tears crowding for release at the edges of his reddened eyes as he saw the belt clutched in his father's hand.

Without a word, Father flicked the belt-holding hand. Nate cried out in pain and surprise as the leather strap lashed across his face, splitting his lip open. "By God in Heaven," Father rumbled sanctimoniously.

The belt flicked again, this time across Nate's bent legs, welting the skin exposed by his shorts, "My own son…"

A third time, this time across the back of the doubled-over boy. The t-shirt Nate wore provided no protection whatsoever, and pain flooded across his shoulderblades, "…a flaming faggot!"

Nate looked up at Father, his shoulder-length, sandy-blonde hair now wet with tears, sweat, and a little blood, he gasped in pain, "But Dad, I'm not gay, I like gi…"

Slap, the belt once again found its mark on Nate's left cheek, sending him sprawling on the floor. "Quiet! You little homo piece of shit!" his father cried.

Nate curled up, agony coursing through his thin frame. The blood now flowed freely from his split lips. Beyond verbal protest, Nate was reduced to helpless, inarticulate sobs as his father stood over him. "I didn't raise you to be no fucking faggot, boy," Father said menacingly, "God will judge you for that sick shit you wrote, son. But so long as I have a say, you'll either learn to walk right, or I'll beat the learnin' into you."

Nate couldn't even reply. The words came to him through a haze of pain. Dimly, he heard his father walk towards the door, then pause, "You're going to sit your little sodomite ass up here, and you're going to think about what you did, you understand, boy? I want you to think about how much you've hurt your mother and me with your selfish, sinful thoughts. Mother and I are going to have a long talk about what we're going to do with you."

The door opened and closed, the footsteps disappeared down the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

2)

For four days, Nate remained up in his room. The door remained bolted shut for a majority of that time. It wasn't the first time the deadbolt, installed on the outside of the door, had been used in such a fashion. Nate's parents had taught him that walking the righteous path required much discipline and atonement, and had often locked him in his rooms for extended periods of time to atone for his sins. This time, like the others, Nate accepted his situation with the resignation of one who did not know there was any other way for things to be. It was God's Will, Nate was taught. This was the way things were meant to be.

Twice a day, the door cracked open, and a plate with several slices of bread, and a small cup of water, was pushed through. By the end of the first day, Nate's insides growled with a hunger that such meager fare could not assuage. He did not complain, though, for the Lord would not accept such weakness to the temptation of gluttony. Instead, he prayed all the more fervently to the plastic cross on his wall.

In fact, he spent a majority of his time praying. There were no books in his room. The notebook had been the only exception to that rule, and now that was gone. In fact, there weren't any possessions of any sort other than a few changes of rather nondescript clothes. There was a single bucket in the room too. The bucket, Nate had learned the first time he had been locked in, was to be used for certain bodily functions. He was to leave it by the door, when the meals were delivered, the bucket was taken and emptied. Though the physical substance was gone, though, the smell remained. By the end of the first day, Nate's room had acquired a rather pungent odour. A breeze from an opened window would have dispersed it, but the window was nailed shut. The distractions of the outside world, his parents said, would tempt him from the true path. Thus, as the summer waned, the temperature inside his room gradually rose, which only aggravated the smell.

For four days, Nate remained in his room. Once a day, his father would come in an administer a belting. Each time, several drops of Nate's blood would stain the floor. Each time, Nate was reminded that this was merely God's initial reaction to his grave sin. The actual punishment was still being deliberated. The words, each time, came to Nate through the veil of his tears as pain from the beatings and the hunger coursed through his body. These, though, were the only words given to him. Other than that, there was absolutely no contact with Nate or any other people. Nate found nothing unusual in this, it was how things were. He was not allowed to socialize freely with others, for down that path, temptation lay.

There was once when it wasn't quite like that, though, Nate remembered. Several years ago, there was a girl he knew. Her name was Rachel. She had often come to visit his house, always bringing her bible with her. Nate's parents had been highly suspicious at first. But, as the weeks passed, and under their watchful eye, nothing more sinful than the reading of passages between Nate and Rachel took place. Finally, they decided that she could be trusted. They grudgingly allowed Nate a little time alone with her, which, again, was spent with much productive bible-reading. Until that one day. Rachel had brought over something she had found in her parent's closet. They had puzzled over the strange pictures within the magazine. Later that night, Nate had asked his parents what a 'threesome' was.

The beatings that night were memorably agonizing. Nate had never seen Rachel again. And for the next week, he was not allowed out of the house. He was told that the heathens outside might not understand that the marks on his body and face were the signs of God's teaching and discipline.

Nate heard the deadbolt shoot. He looked up, slightly confused. Night had fallen, though without a clock, Nate did not know what the actual time was. His two meals and beating had already been given today. He looked up in fear as his father stepped in the room. Without a word, father reached down and wrenched Nate up by his ear. Nate stumbled out into the hallway behind his father, yelping in pain as he was dragged to the bathroom. Without warning, he was shoved in. A second later, he was hit with a balled up towel. "Git yourself cleaned up and come downstairs, faggot," was his father's only words before the door slammed shut.

Nate showered quickly, not wishing to keep his father waiting. After he was done, he gave a quick prayer of thanks, for it was the first time in four days he was free of the smell of human excrement. Drying himself off and getting dressed, he went downstairs. The first thing he noticed was that there was a guest. Mother and Father sat around the table, but there was a third figure there. He looked to be about forty years old, with shortly cropped hair that was just showing the first signs of grayness. He wore a smart business suit, and a finely manicured goatee.

Without a word, Nate quietly took his place at the table and waited to be told what was happening. "Son," his father said, "We talked long and hard about this. God is mighty pissed at you for what you've done, you know. But even though you turned your back on him, and us, your very own parents, we still love you, and so, we looked for a way to make you right in the eyes of the Lord."

"So, we looked to a Man of God for help, and, by God's Will, he came to us," His mother picked up the thread, "Nate, this man is Father Bradley. He's agreed to help you correct your sinful ways and walk the rightful path. And since we love you, even after what you did to us, as Jesus still loves you even though you hurt him so, we've given him all he needs to lead you to proper atonement."

Father leaned over, grabbed a handful of Nate's hair, and viciously yanked his head down to the table, "Now, faggot, you listen well. This man is going to help you, so you'll do exactly what he says. If you don't, and you ain't cured, there ain't no room in this house for sodomite fags like you, you hear me?"

"Yes sir," Nate said painfully.

"Good," Father said, releasing his hair, "Come on, hon, let's go."

Nate was left alone with Father Bradley. "Now," The pastor said without preamble, "Your name is Nate Thomasson, right?"

"Er, yes sir," Nate said, tenderly massaging his bruised scalp.

Father Bradley marked off something on the paper before him. "Okay Nate, as you heard, my name is Father Bradley. In case they didn't tell you, though, I'm here to say, there are going to be some changes in your life."

"Yes sir?" Nate said, wondering what was coming.

"Your parents were right in coming to me. They have good judgment, something I hope you will soon have," Father Bradley said, "with my help."

Nate softly bit his lip. He was very slightly nervous. There was obviously something going on, but he still had no idea what. He waited patiently to be told, he trusted the adult-figure sitting next to him would let him know and make him understand.

"God has been very generous, my son. He has provided for your salvation, did you know this?"

"Yes sir, it is what I was taught, sir. The book of…" Nate stopped as Father Bradley held up his hand.

"Good boy," the Father said, "I see much hope for you. But there is much to learn. You know that you are not yet within the healing light of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Nate hung his head, he knew they would come to this, "Yes, Father. I have committed a great sin."

Father Bradley softly tussled Nate's hair. He let his hand linger on the boy's scalp for a few seconds, seemingly absentmindedly stroking Nate's forehead with his thumb. "Yes, Nate, a great sin, but not an unforgivable sin. You can have your name put back in the Book of Life, but you must properly atone for what you have done."

Nate gulped nervously. A tear cautiously explored the edge of his eyelash, contemplating whether or not it should strike out and explore the cheek that lay below it. "How do I do that, sir?"

"Don't worry, my son," the Father replied, intercepting the tear before it could begin its journey and wiping it away, "You shall not be alone. What have your parents told you about me?"

"Er…nothing at all sir. I did not even know who you were."

"Well then, you know I'm Father Bradley already. It is my job, my calling from the Lord, to help out people like you, Nate. A little ways away from here, I run a school of sorts, the New Lives Education Institute. There, with the help of a few others blessed in the eyes of the Lord, I help people like you back into the cleansing light of Jesus Christ."

"You're a schoolteacher?" Nate had heard his parents say many things about public school teachers. There was nothing positive in what they had said.

"Not exactly," Bradley chuckled, "I am a mere shepherd in the service of our Lord," he gathered up the few papers he had laying about the table, "anyways, your parents have agreed to place you into my care, in the hopes that I can bring you back into the light."

"Okay," said Nate, completely lost.

"Now, these papers here are a few legal papers, signed by the court. What they say is that until I see fit to declare otherwise, your parents have transferred all legal parental/guardian rights and privileges to me, understand?"

"Yes," said Nate, who didn't.

"Good, it's just standard procedure for all the 'students' brought into my school. In order to show you the proper way, I must have full freedom to teach you the correct path. Now, my son, the only thing you have to understand is this: I am now in charge of you. I am responsible for showing you the Way, okay?"

"You mean," Nate said slowly, trying very hard to work with the few bits he did understand, "You're my new father?"

"In a sense, yes," Father Bradley replied, "I'm not your real father, only your father, and our Father in Heaven can claim that, but in order to help you, you are to treat me and respect me like you do your father."

"If father says so…and if it is the Will of God," Nate replied, uncertainly. He had been placed rather abruptly in unfamiliar waters, and had no idea which direction he should go.

"That it is," said Father Bradley, "and your father agrees completely, that is why he signed the forms right here. Now, here is what you are to do, are you listening?"

Nate snapped back, "Er, yes sir!"

"Good, tomorrow, you shall be taken to the New Lives Education Institute. All you need to do is pack a few changes of clothes, everything else will be taken care of. You will wait on the curb out front at nine am tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Y…yes sir," Nate replied.


End file.
